


Meant To Be

by IBlogAboutIt



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Hiatus, Sequel, Tattoo, The Nightmare Before Christmas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 03:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4987540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IBlogAboutIt/pseuds/IBlogAboutIt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to fanatic_by_definition's 'plain as they can see' in which Patrick decides something and it makes Pete very happy.<br/>Purely self-indulgent, full of fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meant To Be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fanatic_by_definition](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanatic_by_definition/gifts).
  * Inspired by [plain as they can see](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4935853) by [fanatic_by_definition](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanatic_by_definition/pseuds/fanatic_by_definition). 



> The delightful fanatic_by_definition wrote a gorgeous little Peterick called 'plain as they can see' and I decided that I needed a ten years later. So I wrote one. You should probably go and read that one first :)

It's been ten years. Ten years, and a fucking suicide attempt and What A Catch, Donnie and a hiatus and now they're back together and Patrick is so _fucking_ thankful for that. He can't explain most of it; so much of it is Pete's, and it hurts a little but he won't encroach on it. Won't force Pete to talk about the past, or to talk about what little he's kept from everyone else. Some things are sacred.

It's been ten years, and now they've released a new album and they're more like Fall Out Boy than Fall Out Boy has ever been. Patrick still feels like this might have been a dream; that they didn't play that first show with fans holding "we've been missing you to death" signs, that he's not back in a tour bus with his four best friends, that he's not playing to a stadium full of kids every night.  
But it's real. It's all real and he gets to spend every day with his best friends, every show with the kids who've made everything possible, every night with Pete.  
And that's the big one, isn't it? The hiatus hurt them both so much; they spent those first few months so far from each other. But now they're lying in a hotel bed, and Patrick's tracing over the outline of Jack and Sally on Pete's forearm. He's thinking it over, about the tattoo and that night in the van when he realised why the characters meant so much to the other man - just a kid, back then. He traces the dark lines, over and over and over, matching the lyrics playing over and over and over in his head.

_My dearest friend, if you don't mind_   
_I'd like to join you by your side_   
_Where we can gaze into the stars_   
_And sit together, now and forever_   
_For it is plain as anyone can see_   
_We're simply meant to be_

The words circle over and around in his brain, and he remembers telling Pete that he wouldn't ever get a tattoo.  
Well.  
Ten years changes a lot of things, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he's found a good enough reason to change that.  
...

For the next week, Patrick thinks about it. He thinks about different lyrics, different images, different placements (although that one goes out the window pretty quickly; he knows he wants it to mirror Pete's).  
He spends his down time looking up other tattoos, artists, designs, fonts, styles - he finds an old picture of a fan with a Fall Out Boy tattoo and tweets it, asking to see those of his followers. He finds out a lot from that. Patrick wouldn't ever tell anyone, but he looks up the seasons of Best Ink that Pete hosted and learns as much as he can. He recognises some names; people like London and Romeo who he's seen around, seen their work on friends.  
He debates whether he wants to tell Pete, or just get it done (ask forgiveness if he doesn't like it) but he's never been able to hide stuff from Pete so he decides that when - if, he tells himself, if - he does this, it'll be with Pete by his side.  
...  
He was sitting on the couch in the back lounge of the bus, scrolling through page after page of designs, when Pete sits on the couch beside him.  
Patrick immediately looks up; Pete never sits anywhere - falls, jumps, collapses, yes. But never just sits.  
"Hey." Patrick closes his laptop and looks cautiously over to the other man.  
"Hey." Pete fiddles with his jacket hem, and Patrick waits patiently until he looks over and catches the younger man's eye. "What's going on?"  
Patrick cocks his head to the side, confusion written clearly on his face.  
"You've had something on your mind for like, a week now, and I don't know what it is and why haven't you told me 'Trick?" Pete's voice is hurt by the end of the sentence and Patrick's heart breaks a little that he's kept it a secret for so long.  
His voice is soft when he speaks. "Here, let me show you."  
He starts his laptop back up and pulls up the text he'd been thinking about, the two lines in his favourite font, and turns it towards Pete who's practically wringing his hands by this stage.  
"What do you think?"  
Pete's face flashes between recognition of the lyrics and confusion at why Patrick's showing him.  
The singer speaks again. "I'm thinking around my forearm, just below my elbow."  
Pete's face dawns with realisation and he puts the laptop aside to pull Patrick into a hug. He laughs into the younger man's shoulder, and Patrick pulls back.  
"Why are you laughing?"  
Pete shrugs, and kisses the singer. "I love you, you know."  
Patrick smiles. "I love you too."  
...  
It hurts, but just about as much as Patrick thought it would given that it's a bunch of tiny needles pushing into his skin over and over. He concentrates on Pete whispering words onto his hand, lips brushing over his knuckles, when the needles edge closer to the inside of his elbow. Eventually the artist is wiping it and declaring it done, and Patrick walks over to the mirror in the corner, nervous about what it might look like.

Pete's grinning like nobody's business, and when Patrick finally sees it he can't stop smiling either. The line of text wraps around his arm, right where the top of Pete's would be, stark and black on his pale skin. He barely hears the aftercare instructions, trusting Pete to know what to do, and doesn't remember the trip home at all.  
...  
A week later Patrick's lying next to Pete, tracing the ink that's still a little tender over and over and over. Patrick smiles at the thought, and the two lines permanently printed on his arm play through his head.

_Where we can gaze into the stars_   
_And sit together, now and forever_


End file.
